Dawn
by Dukes126plus
Summary: Bo wasn’t sure which was more frustrating, Jill leaving, or Luke acting like his usual abrasive self. From One Armed Bandits.


Off to season one, with its distinctly different tone (which the vignettes reflect, I think). Saved for last because I like it best, and just like my favorite episodes lie in here, so do my favorite little stories.

This first one has the same rambling, where-is-this-leading kind of a feeling as the pilot, O_ne Armed Bandits_, does. It's a love story. Unrequited (but whose fault is that, really?). Takes place after the episode.

* * *

"Come on, Bo!"

Yeah, yeah, he was coming. Luke was in too much of an all-fired hurry of you asked him. Shoot, this little hunting trip was originally scheduled for a week ago, before the hound dog ran off. Dumb beast wasn't quite so dumb as Luke liked to complain; old Ben came home just in time for dinner. His antics prevented a day of work for both dog and man, and Bo saw the merit in that. It was just a shame that he just hadn't been quick enough to get down to the barn before Luke this morning and untie Ben's rope for him.

A week late for this trip and why it had to be a rush now, Bo might never know.

Whatever burr was under Luke's saddle was just going to have to stay put for another couple of minutes while Bo had seconds. If his big, strong cousin was too sturdy to need sustenance (or had that much faith in their hunting skills) that was just his problem.

Luke hadn't even liked Jill and didn't much care that she'd promised Bo a week but left after three days. Bo wasn't sure which was more frustrating, Jill leaving, or Luke acting like his usual abrasive self. He was getting _plenty of fish in the sea_ for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with an afternoon snack of _she wasn't that great to begin with_.

_Too skinny_.

Which she was, actually. He just didn't know how Luke got off complaining about it, not when he was about the skinniest man (at least from front to back) that Bo had ever seen. Side to side was another matter all together. A lifetime of sharing a room, and he knew every curve on Luke's body. Better than he'd ever know Jill's.

"Come on, let's get a move on." There was his cheerleader cousin again, reminding him about how the day would get away from them (which could only happen if the sun ever came up, and Bo reckoned that was still a good hour off) and how it was such a nice day to be outside (which explained Luke being out there on the porch, but not why the door was swung wide to the elements, which were a bit cold if you asked Bo), so hurry up.

There were no more eggs to slide around his plate and no more reasons to drag his feet, so Bo gave in and got up to take his dishes to the sink. Jesse shooed him away from washing them and handed off the compound bow that Bo hadn't realized his uncle was holding. The old man seemed awfully eager to be rid of his nephews. Could just be that he was tired of watching them keep a respectful distance from one another. Which only meant that they didn't stand exactly in each other's shadows, just maybe half a step out. It wasn't like they were actually avoiding each other.

Jesse was behind the hunting trip, though, reminding them of what they never got around to last week. So his boys even being just a half bubble off plumb seemed to be too much for the man. Who was just about shoving Bo outside.

"You two be careful," and Bo was on the porch next to his cousin with a closed door behind him.

Ben was at Luke's heel, and got pointed off to the car, same as Bo did. Funny how Luke didn't hardly need words to make his commands known. But as long as he was already outside, Bo had no objection to handing off his bow and jumping into the driver's seat of the General while Ben hopped in the back. Luke fiddled around in the trunk before coming around to swing into in his own window.

Turkey Lake's trailhead was the agreed upon starting point and only ten miles as the crow flew. Luke would want him to stick to the roads, which was exactly why Bo went overland.

"Bo," his bossy cousin complained.

"I know a shortcut," was the obvious response. He'd never know why Luke bothered to make him explain these things.

Nasty curl in the corner of Luke's lip, such an obvious gesture that Bo didn't even have to be looking right at him to see it. "You'd get lost in our own back yard."

There was a response to that. Or should have been. It was the way these things went – Luke challenged him and Bo reacted. Except it was too damn early in the morning and Bo didn't care about how the game was supposed to go. He crossed over into the middle of old Potter's Field instead, found him some dips and bumps and answered Luke that way.

His cousin grabbed for the doorframe, but before Bo could enjoy that tiny victory, Ben yelped from the back to remind him that all the world wasn't made up of just him and Luke. Funny how he could forget that now and again.

"Sorry," he muttered under his breath – to the dog, not his cousin. Luke seemed to understand and kept his silence for the rest of the trip.

Which left Bo to the driving until there wasn't any more to do. Always a shame when he had to relinquish the vibration under his feet and hands, and turn control of the situation back over to Luke.

Except what came next was just routine. Had to wait a bit to get started anyway; the car's engine always scared all the wild creatures away for at least a half hour. And there was still sunrise to consider. So he pulled himself out of the car and found a comfortable place to recline on the trunk. Luke came and settled against the quarter panel right next to him, close enough to touch, but facing away. Ben settled at Luke's feet, just listening for the whistle to call him into action. Bo slid his arms behind his head, waiting.

"She wasn't that bad, you know." Well now. Those were about as good as words could get coming from Luke Duke, even preceded as they were by that big, sacrificing sigh. Oh the things long-suffering Luke had to do for his kid cousin. Like pretend to compliment his lost girlfriend.

_You'd date a crane, no meat_. Really, the only meatless person Bo had ever met was Luke. Bone and muscle, brain and well… hair. No meat.

"You didn't like her," Bo reminded him. Someone had to be honest about these things.

"That ain't true." A touch defensive for a man who'd had nothing nice to say until she was gone. "She was kind of fun, actually." He meant that, too. Head nod to follow.

Too little, too late.

"Why'd she go already?"

See, this was the problem with getting involved with girls. It led to things he and Luke didn't know about each other. Time spent apart and not quite secrets, which meant if they wanted to know anything, they actually had to talk about it.

"Because," he answered, sitting up enough to get his arms free again, bringing both hands down in front of him to clean the black out from under his nails. Luke would say he should have washed better, but there had been no time for such things, not with his cousin standing outside the front door and rushing him along. "I told her I don't want kids."

Luke thought that was funny. Date the girl that's got herself a temp job running the county orphanage and then admit you don't like kids. Well, it wasn't like he'd kept it from her. He'd announced it loud and clear on that second day.

_She don't do nothing for me. Too skinny._

Interestingly, Jill hadn't done anything for Bo, either. She'd put him off, always having a good reason why he couldn't get her prone, couldn't hardly kiss her without objections arising. Made him feel like she was some kind of valuable prize, the kind you had to fight to get. But when he'd finally wrestled it out of her… it hadn't done anything for him. Which made it completely appropriate to blurt out how he never really wanted to have kids.

_We could get complicated._

She hadn't slapped him, though she probably should have. There was just this terribly sad look on her face, like maybe she was feeling sorry for him, and then she'd announced that she was off to Atlanta the next day after all. He got dressed, kissed her soft and pretty girl-cheek, then went home.

To Luke. Who was currently snickering at him.

"Bo," and his cousin's head was shaking now, still facing away toward where the sky was glowing in anticipation of the sun's arrival. "If you don't want kids, you better stop chasing skirts."

Yeah, well. He was a Duke and that was the kind of thing Dukes did. Even if sometimes his mind wandered right in the middle of it all, looking into Jill's dull eyes and missing Luke's bright ones, hearing Jill's boring little hums and squeaks and wondering what Luke's rumbling equivalent might be. The kind of thing he'd have to be Annabelle Walters or Pammy Sue Thompson to know.

"You're the one with two in the orphanage. If you wanted kids, they'd be at home with us." At least that was the story those two girls had told. It was Luke Duke, Pa. He done took me down to Turner Lake and—

Luke was smirking over his shoulder about that. The kind of look that couldn't be trusted, because that curl in his lip was nothing close to amusement. More like danger, actually.

"You got to stop believing everything you hear," Luke informed him. "If'n I thought them kids was mine, they would be sleeping in your bed right now." And you'd be bunking in the barn. "They ain't mine, so stop saying they are."

All right. He'd never liked the notion that they were Luke's anyway. The last thing he needed was two little brats calling him Uncle Bo. And reminding him of what Dukes did, even if they couldn't entirely shake the notion of doing something else.

The sun saved him from following that line of thought any further.

"Look," was all Luke said.

Bo slid off the trunk of the car, one fluid move that ended with his arm across Luke's shoulders. Ben stirred in response to the thud of Bo's feet coming down, but got shushed by Luke.

Two Duke boys stood, warm spots of contact everywhere from their ankles to where Bo leaned his temple against Luke's, and watched a new day dawn.


End file.
